Realizations
by Finrod Felagund
Summary: Finduilas, Gwindor, Orodreth and Turin all star in this short story that is now in 5 parts! Yes, I finally updated and finished it! PLEASE R&R!!
1. Gwindor

Disclaimer, I do not own the characters or place I'm using, I'm just borrowing from a great author, please do not sue me for any reason 'cause I'm not making any money, just having some fun and when was that made illegal?;) Thanx.  
  
Realizations Part One  
  
Gwindor swiftly made his way to the garden, walking deserted paths  
  
"For you," Gwindor said softly, handing Finduilas the delicate pastel-pink flower. "Your father said that it is your favorite color."  
  
"Thank you," she said, just as softly, though her eyes were on the flower, not on him.  
  
"Do you know why I wished to talk with you?" he asked.  
  
She looked up. "You only said that it was urgent."  
  
Gwindor almost sighed, but caught himself. "Before I left…I told you I wished to ask your father for your hand." She nodded, already knowing where the conversation was going; Gwindor could see it in her face. "Many things have changed since I left, but I had hoped our feelings would not change."  
  
"Eleven years is a long time Gwindor," she said gently. "And you ask me again so suddenly, though you do not say it, I know something of what you think and I must say this. We must have time to think, to consider and reconsider, allow me that."  
  
Gwindor nodded agreement. He could wait. Finduilas studied his face and looked away, face the color of the pastel flower. "What is it?" he asked, concerned. She looked at him again, took a deep breath and began to speak. "Gwindor, I cannot marry you. Your feelings may not have changed, but mine have. I can no longer honestly say that I love you with my whole heart! We have been separated too long, and in that time many horrible things happened to you, things I cannot bear to think of, you must understand that I cannot love you, you are not fully healed, you may never be and you would not love me if you knew that I only listened to you and spoke to you out of pity!"  
  
Each could not meet the other's gaze for a moment, one out of shock and sudden heartbreak, the other out of amazement that she had spoken so plainly. Finally, Gwindor took her hands. She flinched at his touch as if expecting him to strike her for what she had said, but he made no movement for a long time. Then he spoke just two words. "I understand." He managed to say it so calmly and gently that he surprised himself in a way. He did not know how he could be so calm, except that full realization must not have sunken in yet. He did understand in part, and the understanding seemed to tear at him. "I did not know how you felt until now and I am glad you have spoken to me and kept the truth a secret no longer. Will you forgive me?"  
  
She looked at him, astonished and relieved at his answer. "What is there to forgive?"  
  
"Forgive me for my misimpression."  
  
"Only if you will forgive me for helping you form it."  
  
"I will."  
  
"Then I will also." Gwindor stood, raised her right hand to his lips and kissed it once. She smiled at him, relief still clearly evident in her face. With that, Gwindor left the garden.  
  
The night was beautifully clear, the moon and stars shining brightly above in an ebony sky, but Gwindor ignored them all, too busy with his troubled thoughts.  
  
*She was my only reason to live until I met Turin, then he became my second reason, I had to guide him. She does not love me any more. Why? She says I was away too long, but she knew I could not help it. Every time she looked at me since my return, there was pity in her eyes and I was too foolish and blindly in love to see it! That this should happen is a final gift from the Great Enemy! She loves Turin.*  
  
He stopped walking exactly where he was.  
  
She loves Turin?  
  
"No!" he shouted to himself, then remembered he was in hearing range of others, notably one other, tall, dark-haired and loved by Finduilas though he knew it not. He sat down on a nearby ledge of a wall and covered his face with his hands. He heard footsteps drawing closer. "Gwindor? Are you to rights?" a voice asked. Abruptly, Gwindor took his hands away from his face and composed himself. Turin stood next to him, looking concerned. Gwindor looked around. No one else was in sight. "I am fine Turin," he said quickly, and perhaps over-harshly. Turin did not look convinced. "Do you need a healer?"  
  
Gwindor smiled bitterly. A healer. They all thought he was weak in the mind, they being everyone, his father, Turin and Finduilas included. "There is no cure, friend, save perhaps time, and that may be no cure," he said, not harshly at all this time, just sad. Sad for Turin that he did not know that he was the luckiest man in all Arda, sad for Finduilas because Turin would be her doom, he knew it somehow, and sad for all the elves of Nargothrond, Turin would bring about their dooms as well.  
  
"Shall I see you home?" Turin asked, breaking his train of thought.  
  
"No," Gwindor said, managing a small smile as he stood. "I'm not a child. If I do not know my way home, then I am a poor guide!"  
  
Turin smiled and started off again.  
  
"Where do you go?" Gwindor asked, out of idle curiosity.  
  
"To see Finduilas , she asked me to meet her in the garden," Turin called back and continued on his way. Had he looked back, he would have seen Gwindor sit back down on the ledge and weep softly, inaudibly. At that hour though, the stars of the Valar were the only witnesses, and they would never tell. 


	2. Finduilas

Realizations Part Two  
  
Finduilas sat in the garden after Gwindor had left, twisting the stem of the pink flower around a finger and thinking. She had told him the truth, she could no longer love him.  
  
So long ago they had been in love. Before he left, they had promised themselves to each other. "Forever," they had said, and Gwindor had told her that when he came back they would be married. Weeks passed with no word, but that was not unusual. When news of the war came, it was ill. Gwindor was not among those few that returned. Finduilas had held hope for almost two years, then grieved for him, never thinking that he might have been captured. He would never have been captured, she had thought. He would have lived or died fighting.  
  
When she saw him again for the first time in years, she knew he had changed so much that she no longer knew him as she used to. Everything about him had changed; the way he walked, talked and thought had changed. In a way it was as if he was not the same elf, just someone who looked a little like the Gwindor she used to know and had the same name. She had known who he was of course, but only just. When she first saw him, she thought that she might still be able to care about him as she had, but after only four days had passed, she knew that she could not. He was so different, his eyes were different, less alive, but at the same time fiercely and defiantly alive in a way that unnerved her. He was quieter, when he spoke, he spoke only to one person at a time, as if thinking that he would be overheard by someone the conversation was not meant for. He smiled less, the few times she'd really seen him smile since his return was when she was with him. He used to be an accomplished harpist and skillful dancer, but now when she asked him to play, the soft music of the harp was like weeping and he would not play for long. He no longer danced, he claimed he'd forgotten how, and when Finduilas offered to teach him again, he smiled for a moment, seeming more himself, then a shadow passed over his face and he said he was too tired. All this was so unlike the Gwindor she had known! Feeling confused, she decided he was now too different and sad for her, as she feared he would be. She regretted not telling him how she felt sooner. She pitied him, but did not love him. Thankfully, he had taken it well, she had been right in thinking that after so long away he could no longer love her. He must have remembered their promise and tried to keep it. While that was thoughtful of him, it was unnecessary, now he was released from the promise and could seek healing.  
  
All that was to the good, because now she had a new interest and a new puzzle.  
  
Mormegil. Who was he? He was more than he said he was, but what did that mean? She had heard her father speak highly of his counsel, he was not afraid of battle as Gwindor seemed to be. She wondered if Mormegil  
  
knew how she felt about him. *He must feel the same way. That is why he has been so kind to me. Perhaps, maybe even tonight, he will tell me that he loves me. He must know how I feel, I have all but told him.*  
  
She looked at the flower that lay in her hand and turned it over. While still beautiful, it had already begun to fade. The sound of approaching footsteps took her mind far from the fate of a little flower that she dropped not far from where she sat when she went to greet Mormegil. 


	3. Turin

Realizations Part 3  
  
Turin walked through a deserted plaza on his way to his meeting with Finduilas in the garden. For a moment, he stopped to look at the brilliant stars overhead. No matter how many times he saw them, they still filled him with amazement. And they reminded him of Beleg. A sharp pain that shouldn't have been there shot through the region of his chest and at the same time all he could think of were the pain and fear clouded moments, the worst moments of his life that suddenly became horribly clear when he saw the deathly still body of his teacher and dearest friend.  
  
"No!" someone shouted, stirred Turin out of his reverie. It sounded like when he had shouted 'No', out of loss and not understanding, but at the same time, terrible understanding. Except that this had not been as loud, or as sorrowful, he thought, and it wasn't his voice. He looked around the almost empty square. A figure bent over by some terrible grief sat on a bench. Turin knew who it was and quickly walked over.  
  
"Gwindor, are you to rights?" he asked, worried for his friend. Gwindor took his hands away from his face and straightened up. He looked around.  
  
"I am fine Turin," he said too quickly, sounding resentful. Turin raised an eyebrow, both not believing him and wondering what the resentful tone was for.  
  
"Do you need a healer?" he asked. Gwindor gave him a twisted smile, as if to say 'You know nothing', then his expression changed, became sad.  
  
"There is no cure, mellon, save perhaps time, and that may be no cure." Turin thought he understood. He could only imagine- and he didn't want to imagine- what happened to Gwindor during his captivity in the mines. He needed time to recover from it, most importantly in his mind. Beleg had told him though men or elves might finish a battle unscathed or close to it, some may have been hurt in a deeper way, one that was harder to cure. He had no advice on the subject, only that everyone was different and nothing was a certain cure. Turin felt uncomfortably helpless to help the friend who had cared for him when he could not care for himself and wanted to die.  
  
"Shall I see you home?" he asked. It was a small thing, but it was something. He knew the answer though, before the words were out of Gwindor's mouth.  
  
"No," Gwindor said, managing a small smile as he stood. "I'm not a child. If I do not know my way home, then I am a poor guide!" Turin smiled back, a smile took no words and was rarely misinterpreted. He started walking again. "Where do you go?" Gwindor asked. Turin half turned.  
  
"To see Finduilas, she asked me to meet her in the garden," he replied and continued on his way, still wondering what on Arda it was that Finduilas so urgently wanted to talk about. 


	4. Orodreth's Council

Realizations Part Four  
  
Orodreth looked around at his council before speaking. Everyone seemed to be alive and well- all but two, Gwindor and Mormegil. Gwindor was staring into nowhere with a blank look on his face and Mormegil was little better, but every so often he shifted in his seat and frowned. Gwindor only stared.  
  
"I have called this council to decide our strategy at last," Orodreth sighed. "The Enemy's forces are approaching rapidly. As I see it, we have three choices. One, we flee Nargothrond and fighting only when we have to, rejoin our kin in any of numerous locations. Two, we stay silently hidden and hope that they do not know where we are. Or three, we fight."  
  
"If we fight, we will die." Gwindor said simply, face blank.  
  
"Gwindor, there is hope! We can fight, and we can win!" Mormegil protested, standing up. "We have a good sized garrison here, surely we could rout them!"  
  
Gwindor's eyes flashed and his face was no longer blank. He was angry, controlling himself carefully, but obviously very angry. "Moremegil, you do not understand! They outnumber us, perhaps five to one! I allow that we have been outnumbered worse before, but seldom have such battles gone well! We have the advantage of surprise, I think, but that is not enough! They are terrible; do you all not understand?" He turned terror filled eyes on the council, as if willing them to see what he had seen. "So we are supremely confident, hiding in our caves, safe from the outside world and invincible in battle! They will kill us all if we fight them in open battle! "  
  
"Gwindor, you overestimate them," Mormegil said patiently.  
  
Gwindor stood and began to lose control of his anger. "I do not! I do not underestimate them! I have seen them! I know! Valar, how could I forget, I have tried, tried to think that we could fight them, that we were strong- but we are not strong enough!" Gwindor stopped talking, shaking suddenly, only slightly, but enough for those nearby to notice. He clenched a fist and spoke quietly. "You will not believe me…they have robbed me of more than I had thought." He was silent for a moment, then looked first at Mormegil, then at Orodreth. "I will abide by the decision of the council, whatever it may be…and support it with my life." He sat down and pulled his cloak about him as if he was suddenly cold.  
  
Mormegil remained standing. "We are strong," he said. "We must make a stand one day, why not make a victorious one here? With this battle, we may assure ourselves and our families of peace for a little while longer." Then he sat down.  
  
Orodreth looked at his council. "Let us vote."  
  
The vote to fight was almost unanimous, Gwindor did not vote. 


	5. Battle

I do not own anything, I am writing for fun. Would anyone with more information on the battle of Tumhalad please contact me with what they know?  
  
  
  
Realizations Part Five  
  
Gwindor knew that the elves of Nargothrond were rapidly losing the battle of Tumhalad. The intelligence gathered had been biased and piecemeal with reports estimating the foe between only a few hundred and a thousand. He made a fist of silent rage. The sky overhead was dark with heavy rain clouds; rains swelled the nearby rivers of Ginglith and Narog and in the distance, thunder cracked. The enemy was advancing. We have no choice but to hold our ground and hope to be slain in battle, Gwindor thought. It was all the fault of Turin, but Gwindor shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. Turin did not know, he overestimated our strength. But I told him and he would not listen! No one would listen! Ahead, he saw some troops breaking rank to flee. He turned his mount Naréllo and rode towards them. "There is nowhere to flee! Stand and fight!" he shouted. He was surprised and pleased to see that some heard his command and stayed. Only eleven years ago, I would have led them into the teeth of the enemy…and they would have followed, and we would all die bravely as has happened so many time- A sudden flash of pain made him grip the reins hard. A black feathered arrow protruded from his chest. Fighting the pain, Gwindor snapped the shaft and managed to extract the arrowhead. He inspected the greened tip. "Poison…" he said softly. Life until now has been a living death, even here. Finduilas cares for me not- Findulias! For the first time since the beginning of the battle, Gwindor remembered her. We will be routed! If she does not escape…Gwindor knew what the orcs were capable of. No. He would not allow that to happen to her. He did not have much more time to act, but act he would have to and swiftly. He wheeled Naréllo about and galloped back.  
  
Finduilas he found watching the battle, looking horrified, but determined to see all that came to be. "Findulias!" he shouted. The enemy had broken through the lines in many places and was advancing swiftly. Finduilas looked at him as if seeing him for the first time.  
  
"Gwindor!" she cried. "Gwindor…this is horrible…"  
  
Gwindor dismounted Naréllo. "I know. It is war," he said shortly, feeling a tightening sensation in his chest. "Findulias," he said, swinging the surprised elf-maid onto his horse. " Naréllo is swift and he will die for you at need. Ride now and do not look back or return!"  
  
But Finduilas stayed as if frozen. "Where- where shall I go?" she asked, a look of fright in her eyes.  
  
"Eru will guide you, go!"  
  
Too late, Finduilas turned the horse and began to ride. Wrishtwaang! With a cry, Finduilas fell from the horse. Gwindor turned, drew his sword and attacked the enemy. Block, thrust, block, dodge- his timing was slowing, he felt it and could do nothing. There was a searing pain in his side and he fell backwards. One of the orcs he had been fighting stabbed him once more for good measure and the world faded to darkness- but not before he saw Finduilas being dragged away.  
  
Hours later, all the pain in him caused Gwindor to wake. Someone was moving him. He struck out with the stiletto that he had hidden up his sleeve. Eyes closed, he hoped for swift death. A hand caught his, gently. He opened his eyes. Turin was lifting him from the damp ground. "Turin…" he whispered.  
  
The dark haired mortal looked at him. "Don't try to move again, they've almost killed you," he said quietly.  
  
"They have," Gwindor said. "The arrow was poisoned, I do not have long, but listen to me Turin."  
  
Turin interrupted. "Gwindor I was wrong, you were right, we were far out- numbered-"  
  
"No!" Gwindor put all the force he could manage into his voice. "Listen! Turin, I am dying, Finduilas is not dead, she has been taken. Leave me-" his breath grew short for a moment as the poison's action was showing now. "Find her. If you do not find her, your doom will remain and bring your death and much suffering. Turin, only she can save you! But you must find her, Turin, promise me that!" All effort spent in his last attempt to save both his friend and his only love, Finduilas, Gwindor lay dying in Turin's arms, trying very hard to focus his eyes and see the words his lips formed.  
  
"I promise you Gwindor, Guilin's son, that I will find Finduilas and guard her with my life."  
  
Gwindor sighed in relief. Turin would keep his word. If it was at all possible, if Finduilas still lived, Turin would save her. "Go…" he whispered. Turin stood and left him. Gwindor took a last look at the darkened sky of Arda overhead, and then his spirit fled his broken body, to the Halls of Mandos far over the seas. 


End file.
